


A Christening

by BishopDeaconCardinal



Series: A Bad Idea, Probably [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub Undertones, Hate Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21709723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BishopDeaconCardinal/pseuds/BishopDeaconCardinal
Summary: Carrington isn't tolerating this. Not this time.
Relationships: Doctor Carrington/Deacon (Fallout)
Series: A Bad Idea, Probably [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590382
Comments: 18
Kudos: 43





	A Christening

The old leather bunched under Carrington’s fists flaked slightly. He didn’t spare a second thought as it fell off against his hands and down the front of Deacon’s coat. 

“How dare you?” he hissed. 

Even now with Deacon pressed against a table with Carrington contemplating if anyone would notice their best field agent was missing, Deacon laughed. 

“What?” he held his hands up, not acknowledging Carrington’s hold as a threat, “You think you get to tell me to prove that I’m good at intel gathering than not use that as an opportunity to show off?” he rolled his eyes, “Too easy, man. Too easy.”

Carrington could feel his jaw start to ache where he had his teeth clenched, “A cute trick, Deacon. But had you considered provoking your superiors-”

“Into a rage monster?”

“Into  _ anger _ ,” Carrington corrected, “Might potentially be more harmful to you than beneficial in showing us your ability to snoop on old facts?”

He pushed off Deacon, pulling himself away from where he had forced him in the first place. 

He hadn’t meant to resort to physical confrontation but if nothing else, Deacon knew how to push and push and  _ push. _

“Look,” Deacon gestured around what was to be The Railroad’s new headquarters, the few tables and singular mattress under lit by the smattering of candles and single lantern by their feet, “I’ve been your go-to guy for years. But when you question my ability, you question our safety. I didn’t cause Switchboard to collapse,” Carrington tried not to flinch at what felt like a pass over a still open wound. “But making me prove myself again because of your paranoia just isn’t going to help.”

Carrington snapped, “Had you considered it possible that my paranoia could have prevented all this?”

And annoyingly nonchalant Deacon said, “No. I think you want someone other than yourself to blame. So!” He collected the papers in his hands that Carrington hadn’t managed to knock free, “Do you want to go over your qualifications again or your relation to the other Mr. Carrington. Tell me was he a father? Brother? You did share a last name so your anger to me indicates he might have been a little somethin’ more. Was David a hot piece, Carrington or-”

And to Carrington’s own surprise, he had Deacon re-pinned against the table, papers hitting the floor, “You have made your bloody point. Drop it.”

“Now why would I do that? When you’re this close I get all warm and fuzzy,” he smiled that infuriating know-it-all smile. 

But his cheeks had a previously missed red tint and from where his sunglasses had slid down his nose Carrington could see how blown his pupils were. He didn’t think it was just the low lighting. 

“Let me guess. This is the most physical affection you get?” Two could play this game, “Provoking people into fights to remember some semblance of intimacy? Look at you.” He readjusted his grip, pulling Deacon up a bit more so he had to rest on his tiptoes and tried to ignore the growing tightness in his pants. He used his small height advantage to make a point of leaning down and over to his ear, “Disgusting.”

Deacon shuddered. 

Which had not been the effect he had been going for. He knew tearing down Deacon’s smug attitude felt good for him but this? It made sense somehow that this is what got Deacon going, this held hands with his secret self loathing that brimmed to the surface in light waves that Carrington was sure he wasn’t the only one who had caught on to. 

He pushed him harder against the table, he could tell Deacon was trying to move so he was more sitting on it but Carrington wouldn’t give him the space. “The only thing you ever change is your face. Your horrid personality is unfortunately, woefully still in tact. Your vapid vanity and inability to hold your tongue prevails despite an unending protest to still it.” 

He didn’t want to admit it, but watching Deacon whimper quietly at his verbal dressing down had him beginning to strain uncomfortable against his pants zipper.

When Deacon pressed his hips against Carrington he pushed off him once more, “I don’t think so.  _ You  _ have been completely and totally  _ yourself _ and that is an unfortunate habit I desperately hope to break.” 

Deacon bit his bottom lip a moment before releasing it and swallowing, “How?”

He shouldn’t have risen to the bait, he shouldn’t be entertaining this in any capacity. Still he said, “I beg your pardon?”

“How will you make me learn, Carrington? Put me over your knee?” he was trying to goad him into anger again. 

“No. I think you’d like that far too much.”

“Anything you do to me I’d like, baby.”

Carrington’s nose scrunched as he pulled a face, “ _ Baby? _ Is that the best you’ve got? Pet names. Honestly. You talk far too much.” he watched Deacon start to deflate, seemingly having lost their little game. 

Carrington reached out and put a hand on Deacon’s shoulder, pushing him. Deacon made eye contact over the top of his sunglasses and held it as he went to his knees, “Find something better to do with that mouth of yours.” Not his best line, he’ll admit, but the way Deacon all but attacked the front of his trousers, he’d count it as having worked. 

Deacon moved with a desperation Carrington hadn’t seen in the always purposefully aloof agent. In contrast to his fast movements, Carrington leisurely took off his jacket, and easily untucked his shirt. Only moving a hand out quickly when Deacon was holding his length to stop him from leaning forward, “Ask me.”

Deacon looked confused, he was so easy to read like this. 

Carrington moved one hand down to take off his sunglasses and the other kept his head away, “Ask me for what you want to do.”

His eyes really were terribly expressive, Carrington understood why he always kept them covered. He could see the pieces click into place. 

“Can I suck you off?” after a moment he added, “Please?”

And wasn’t that just terribly polite. 

“That’s it?” Carrington sighed, disappointed. 

Deacon licked his lips, moving up off his heels a bit to lean closer but still level with his dick, “Can I please suck you off? I’ll let you fuck my face. I’ll hold really goddamn still, Carrington,  _ please. _ ”

His dick betrayed him with a twitch of interest, Deacon looked up at him and he could tell how even now on his knees in front of him he was smug. 

“You can start with that. But your lack of gag reflex is already noted. Make it interesting.” He’d once had Deacon deep-throat a tongue depressor he was using on him, just to mess with him. Well now it was Carrington’s turn to fuck with him. 

Deacon nodded excitedly, he leaned forward again and swallowed Carrington down. It was over eager and just an attempt to show off but goddammit if it hadn’t been awhile. Carrington groaned and somehow even with his lips stretched around Carrington’s cock he looked smug. 

So when Deacon’s hand not currently cradling Carrington’s balls slides down to undo his own trousers, Carrington snaps, “Hands up here!”

The speed in which Deacon complies was distressingly sexy. 

“Do you want to get off? Because I-” he gasped when Deacon did something particularly clever with his tongue. He continued like he hadn’t been interrupted just to not give him the satisfaction, “I don’t know if you’ve earned it.”

Deacon pulled off a moment, “Like you have?”

“You really don’t get it do you. I could leave right now.” he stepped back, his dick hanging obscenely from the front his pants, shining with spit, “Don’t think I won’t.”

He could have. If he really, really had put his mind to it. But his will wasn’t needed when Deacon’s apparent need to be put in his place had him shuffling forward on his knees and putting his hands on Carrington’s hips. 

Carrington looked down at him like this still wasn’t worth his time. 

“I- I have lube?” Deacon phrased it like a question. As if asking him if that was what he wanted to hear. 

And he hadn’t realized it until Deacon said it but that was perfect. 

“Fine,” he continued his aloof tone, “Keep going. Get yourself ready. Don’t fucking come before I say, I’m warning you, Deacon. You’re barely worth my time like this, even less if you’re already spent.”

Deacon nodded again and gently licked the head of his cock before leaning back and asking, “Can I keep going?”

Watching this man so completely at his will, even if only for fleeting moments, was going to be the death of him, Carrington was sure. 

“Yes. But stop showing off.” he wasn’t entirely certain what he meant when he said that but the pressure of Deacon’s mouth changed so it must have struck home with him. 

He wanted to squirm, to throw his head back and pull Deacon down on his shaft and despite him proving he wouldn’t, he wanted to make Deacon fucking choke on him. 

But this was partially to get off and partially a battle of wills, and even with Deacon submitting he still had to maintain a facade. 

Deacon pushed his thighs apart a little, as much as Carrington’s trousers would allow so he could lick at the base of his dick. He continued moving steadily back with his tongue as Carrington heard Deacon’s belt buckle scrape against the floor. Deacon only moved off him to pull himself up onto his knees. 

“I can’t-” he seemed frustrated by heights and clothes.

Carrington didn’t take pity on him, “You are much more agreeable like this. Quieter if nothing else.”

He made another frustrated noise. 

Carrington rolled his eyes and moved back to the table he’d been holding Deacon against. He hopped up on it and Deacon once more did an awkward knee shuffle to him. 

On the table with Deacon up on his knees, his dick was right at the height needed for Deacon to reach. 

Deacon balanced himself with one hand on Carrington’s knee and the other pulled the small bottle of lube from his jacket. Carrington wanted to ask. Really he did. Why and for what purpose, how often did he do this? He wouldn’t imagine too often, he really did look quite vulnerable like this. 

He clumsily poured the lube onto one hand before realizing he hadn’t unbuttoned his pants and having to rest his head against the table while he fought with his button with the other. 

Carrington snorted and watched as Deacon nearly lost his balance trying to glare at him. 

“Ah-ha!” he got his pants down and shimmied his hips a little to help them fall further down his thighs. He looked back up at Carrington triumphantly. 

Carrington looked down at him unimpressed, erection flagging slightly, “Are you quite finished?”

“I don’t know. I could just sit here and finger myself until I come.” he seemed to contemplate it, ruining his own suave illusion when he gasped as his finger breached himself. 

“Is that something you can do?” Carrington’s own curiosity got in the way of his desire to button his trousers and leave Deacon exposed on the stone floor, just to know he could. 

Deacon leaned his head on Carrington’s thigh, open mouth breathing as his fingers worked their way further into him, his hot breath ghosting over Carrington’s once again interested dick. 

Carrington moved his hand around to the back of Deacon’s head and pulled him closer to his erection once more, “Answer me.”

Deacon nodded. Carrington stopped pulling him closer and he seemed to realize a verbal response was required, “Yeah. Yes. Yeah- oh fuck.”

He seemed lost in the sensation of it, his eyes glassy and breathing coming faster, and the deep red of his cheeks causing his freckles to stand out even in the low light.

Carrington wanted to just watch him, maybe a different angle, maybe actually be able to watch what his hand was doing. But this wasn’t about enjoying the view. 

He sighed as though he was bored, “Tell me when you’re ready, I suppose. I guess I’ll just wait.”

Deacon seemed to take that as a challenge and leaned forward to engulf him once more. He cried out at the suddenness of it, and thought about pulling Deacon back again to make him ask for it, but when Deacon whined so pathetically in the back of his throat that Carrington let him carry on. 

Deacon was drooling a bit, it was mixing with Carrington’s pre-come and settling in his pubic hair and some part in the back of Carrington’s head he didn’t want to think of the unpleasant experience he was going to have working that out. 

Deacon pulled back a moment before Carrington was going to push him off so he didn’t come, breathing heavy and hard. “Ok.”

Carrington’s own brain was a little more clouded than before with all his blood having gone south, “What?”

“Ok, I’m ready.” Deacon backed away far enough for Carrington to stand. He helped Deacon to his feet, a difficult venture with Deacon’s trousers still trapping his legs. 

He leaned over the table without Carrington asking and held himself open. 

And oh, wasn’t that going to provide some vivid imagery to think upon at a later date. 

Carrington grabbed the bottle of lube from where Deacon left it on the floor and slicked himself, slowly. He held the base of his dick a moment trying to gather himself before stepping forward and pressing in. 

Deacon moaned as he moved forward up onto his toes. Carrington bit his lip trying not to give him the satisfaction of joining him, but a sound escaping his throat all the same. 

He did wait longer than probably decent to start moving. 

He thrust up into Deacon while pulling him down onto him by Deacon’s hips. 

It startled a full body shiver out of Carrington. It been so long,  _ so fucking long.  _

He didn’t give Deacon time to adjust, just started a brutal pace and watched Deacon quickly start leaning back into it. 

He let go of his hip with one hand and grabbed Deacon’s wrist when he tried to go to stroke himself, “You told me- fuck- you told me you could come with out.”

Deacon whined high in the back of his throat, “Doc, please.”

He snapped his hips harder into him by way of response. 

He kept his arm wrapped around him, pinning Deacon’s wrist to his chest, Deacon’s other arm bracing himself against the table. 

He felt on the edge of coming, tangibly close between Deacon’s teary eyes and breathless whispers when Deacon’s hand that he’d been holding against him slid into his own, locking their fingers as his body clamped down as he came. 

And if watching Deacon ruin his stupid leather jacket with his own come wasn’t enough to make Carrington get off, his cry of Carrington’s name and the clench of muscles was. 

He stood there bent over Deacon breathing heavily for a long trembling moment. 

One of the candles sputtered out just in his line of sight over Deacon’s shoulder and it was as if it took the moment with it. 

He pulled out fast enough that Deacon gasped at the sudden movement and, Carrington assumed, the suddenness of come running down his leg.

He paid no mind as he tucked himself away. 

He would have loved nothing more to lay on the mattress on the floor and nap off his post sex exhaustion, but this was still a weird psychological war. 

He didn’t bother tucking in his shirt as he picked up his jacket off the floor and re-zipped it.

Deacon still was leaned over the table, pants around his thighs. 

Had he actually upset him? “Deacon?”

Whatever conversation he seemed to be having in his own head stopped when Carrington spoke and he seemed to come back to himself. 

He started tucking himself away and pulling up his pants. He smacked Carrington on the shoulder like they’d played a sport together, “Nice. Alright, buddy. I’ll see you later.” He shot Carrington a few almost limp wrist finger guns and all but backward danced towards the door that lead through the church. 

“Deacon you need to report back in.” he threw it back to business, made it seem like none of this really mattered when he was already replaying it in his mind.

Deacon coughed a moment, his voice still ragged from having sucked him off, “Yeah, ten-four good buddy. I will get right on that. Just have some stuff to take care of.”

Carrington scoffed, “I’m sure. I’ll just be telling Dez that you’ll be there soon then?”

“You know it!” he got down the stairs without falling and Carrington was honestly a little surprised. 

When Deacon returned to their temporary hide out later he was in a different set of clothes and Carrington himself couldn’t help but feeling smug. 

**Author's Note:**

> As of posting this there are exactly now two fics in the Deacon/Carrington tag and that is a travesty.
> 
> I'm on Twitter! @BDeCardinal


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